In Ecstasy And Pain

Satish Verma

under a new sky. 

Buried in the sands 
of time, 
to locate the gate of moon. 

Nothing else moves 
in my thoughts, except 
a Venus fly-trap. 

Your hinged, slanted 
eyes, capturing my words. 

Then your maze bleeds 
in the spotless dawn 
of baby year. 

Between a mortal 
and a saint. 
I hang my mirror 
to prove the divinity of the dust 
of god.